Sunday 23 June 2013

The Sands of Time



Whilst I was over east some weeks back, and having had one trip back in time meeting up with old climbing friends, I decided to take the dogs off to my old stomping ground.  For a number of years I lived in a tiny farm cottage just a few hundred yards from the sea.  It was idyllic and I have fond memories of that time.  For that reason, I didn't go near the house as I didn't want to corrupt the memories that are imprinted on my brain.  Instead, I drove to the next village and walked back along the shore to the mouth of the burn (stream) by which my cottage sat.

My Old House - the tiny one in the middle.


It was a gorgeous day with blue skies, fluffy white clouds, and some warmth to the air as well as in the sun.  The village gardens were full of the spring yellows and purples that my own garden used to have. 

Down at the beach, the sand was as clean and golden as I remember it, and the sea was crystal clear - with the smell of the North Sea which is so different to the Atlantic on the other side of the country - somehow it is fresher, saltier, and crisper. 

Sand and water - a paradise for dogs.

Even Tussock had a swim.
 


There is a new coastal walking path there now, but I stuck to the shore line to avoid any walkers, and also to allow the dogs to swim - and swim they did.  For about a mile, River and Talulah never came out of the water for more than a few seconds at a time.  Even Tussock went in for a swim.  I threw the ball a few times on setting off, but then lost it when I let go of the rope at the wrong moment and it ditched in the sea - and didn't float.  Ah well.

Queen of the ball - Tussock

Queen of the Seas - Talulah


As we got closer to my old home, the beach became more and more familiar - rocks we would sit on in the sunshine, our place of entry into the water for a swim - and we swam most days from March through to November!  There were the huge slabs of rock covered in fossilised tracks of creatures who lived hundreds of millions of years ago, and the rocks jutting out into the water which were safe to dive from.  On one memorable midnight swim, I dove in from these rocks to find the water full of phosphorescence - magical luminous yellow particles glowing as I disturbed the water in which they live.  As I swam creating disturbance and bubbles, I left a trail of bright yellow in the water behind me.  Magical.





Getting close - you can just see the salmon bothy in the distance.

My old beach.

My old beach - the diving rocks are on the left.
One sad sight was the old salmon bothy - in my time living here, the bothy was actually habitable, still with its wood panelling, stairs and attic.  One evening, my boyfriend and I had gone up into the old attic and found several hundred rounds of live ammunition which must have been stashed up there during the second world war.  We collected it up and took it to the police station in town - I will never forget the alarm of the lady officer on desk duty!!!  I am glad we removed it from site, as over the years the house has been emptied of everything burnable - I dread to think of what dreadful accident may have happened if some drunken fool had chucked these bullets on a camp fire.  Anyway, the bothy now has just two gable ends, a back wall, and a pile of rubble - with a sign saying "Dangerous - Keep Out".  The decay brought about by time and accelerated by vandalism.

A sad demise

Someone's pride and joy once upon a time.

I cried upon seeing this

Looking back to the bothy.

I can't believe in all the years I lived here, that this is the only picture I could find of the salmon bothy.

We walked as far as the burn mouth and I smiled as I remembered a funny moment.  From my house I could walk down our own side of the burn to what we called the "wee beach", or we could cross the burn and walk through the woods to the "big beach".  One evening, my neighbour and I walked to the wee beach, and in the guddle of getting changed to swim I didn't realise that Leroy had wandered off.  When I noticed his absence I started to call him - no response.  Eventually I realised I would have to go find him before he wandered too far.  I put my clothes back on and ran along the track towards the burn, calling all the way.  No response.  Finally I got to the burn, and saw him over the water, chatting up another dog who was with a group of people.  I stood there and called across the burn - he looked at me as if to say "You can't catch me!"  In frustration I eventually shouted "If you don't f****** come here I will f****** come and get you".  No response.  I stripped off to my underwear, waded into the water, swam across, trotted out up the bank, caught Leroy, pushed him into the water and swam back over pushing him all the way.  At the other side, I gathered up my clothes and trotted back into the bushes.  On the way back to the "wee beach" I mused on the fact that the people with the other dog were American, and grinned as I imagined their conversation on my departure: "Gee, they still have savages here"!!!

The burn mouth, and time to turn around.

Still smiling at this memory, I turned back the way I had come.  I was almost tempted to go for a swim, but had no towel or swimwear with me, and it was rather busy with people to be running around in my underwear.  We kept on walking other than stopping for our picnic where Talulah decided to dig a hole to rest in.  Only trouble was, by the time she was happy with the hole, it was time to move on.


When we reached the point where we lost the ball, the dogs rushed forward, obviously remembering it.  The tide was going out, and suddenly I spied the ball in the shallows.  I kept pointing it at it, saying "there it is" and one by one the dogs walked over it, past it, and even stood on it, but they didn't see it to bring it out.  Bit by bit my feet got wetter until finally Talulah spied it and picked it up triumphantly.

By now, the clouds were gathering a bit and there were a few spats of rain.  No matter - we had had a lovely walk.

Saturday 22 June 2013

Confession of a (bad) dog owner.

It has been a stressful few weeks in this particular hovie household, with Tussock being unwell, River having her first (and incredibly bloody) first season which has sent all hormones skewwhiff yet again and now last Sunday's events have certainly added to that stress.
 
It is actually quite hard to tell this tale, but hopefully in the telling, some of you will able to pat yourselves deservedly on the back since your dogs wouldn't do such a thing, or that you yourself wouldn't behave in such a manner, or perhaps some of you will recognise certain aspects within the situation and be able to avoid the farce I found myself in last Sunday.  It wasn't my finest hour. 

I went down to a friend's house where my young horse is currently staying, keeping another pony company, and allowing me access to the arena to do some more work with her.  The dogs always go with me - they help me pick up the poo in the field, chase the odd rabbit, play with a ball, take a dunk in the ditch and generally have a lot of fun.  They know to stay out of the arena whilst I am working with Mooi, and they never stray very far away, and come back to the shout.

This afternoon, however, when we had all jumped out of the car, my friend's husband was trying to get a motorbike started and asked if I could help them push it up to the road where they could take advantage of the slope.  I thought about putting the dogs in the car for a few minutes, but it was hot and didn't want them to be distressed, so they came with us - we would only be a couple of minutes. The bike was heavy and was slow to push, and the dogs ran on ahead.

First incident - a dog in a neighbouring garden - a squabble through the fence - I should have taken them back to the car at that point, but I didn't want to hold my friends up by faffing about with the dogs.  
 
We got up to the road, and gave the bike a push - no joy.  So we had to push it up the hill again.  I was so busy concentrating on pushing the bike and helping to keep it upright that I failed to notice the dogs wandering off in the direction of another neighbouring property. 

By the time we had got the bike to the top of the slope the second time, I realised there was a dog in the property they were visiting - I had forgotten there was a dog lived there and I had a sudden panic as all the girls were in season.  I hadn't worried too much about them as, historically, they have been content to hump one another and have never shown any attempts at roaming. I called them, and they did respond, but this dog was intent on being with the ladies and came with them despite his owner's calls.  I tried to catch him, but the owner called to say to just leave him and he would go back in his own time.
 
However, he was so intent on Talulah's bum, that I decided it would be better to catch him and take him back to his owner and she could hold him whilst I took my three away.  But he was none too keen on his collar being held and made moves to mouth me - deciding the safer option was to slip my jumper through his collar, I moved to do so - except he got away. 
 
I then thought I would just take all of them to the dog's own garden so is owner could take him - so we did.  Dog handed over, and I moved off.  At that point a chicken decided to put in an appearance.  Tussock decided to have a nosey - chicken wasn't happy about it - Tussock insisted - chicken ran - Tussock chased - chicken squawked  - Tussock caught - you get the drift.  By the time I got to the scene of the crime, the chicken breathed its last.  Despite my telling her off, Tussock decided to go look for another chicken, which she found - I ran after her - she dropped the now dead chicken - and went for yet another.
 
By this time I was pretty stressed, and I'm afraid that Tussock got a thumping when I finally caught her with the last chicken.  She vacated the killing fields in disgrace and at this point I realised the owner had let go of her dog and he was busy with Talulah behind me.
 
My language got worse and so did the volume.  And I probably made a non too pretty arse of myself.  I was angry at the dogs, angry at myself, angry at the world.  Once again, in helping someone else out, I put myself in a bad position and am now paying the emotional and financial cost. 
 
I have no idea why the dog's owner let him go again, or why she didn't catch him, or why she and my friend didn't make any attempt to prevent what was going on behind me.  I wish they had.
 
But the bottom line is - they are my dogs and I am responsible for them, and have to accept the consequences of anything they might do, or damage they might cause.  I let them down by putting them in that position - a bad decision on my part, and, as it would appear, not enough training for that kind of situation.  That said - all my dogs did come to me on my call to begin with - it was only once the chicken got in on the act that it all went pear shaped....
 
So, this week we have to go to the vet Monday and Tuesday to have injections for Talulah to prevent any pregnancy - if he had been a flat coat, then I would perhaps go ahead with pups, pedigrees permitting, but he wasn't.  And I have chickens to pay for somewhere down the line - at my insistence. 
 
Last Sunday I was ready to pack my bags and move to remote island to escape the real world.  I just wanted to hideaway and find some balance and calm again. 
 
The one bright moment in all of this?  River, or my little Shitbag, was perfectly behaved.  I think she saw a side of her mum she had never seen and decided it was better to stand still, observe and learn!
 
But shit happens.  And each time it does, a lesson presents itself - I have certainly learned from this one.
 
Confession over - I know some of you will be appalled at this story, and be quite sure your dogs won't do something like that.  Equally I know some of you will cringe with me, perhaps recalling a similar sort of situation where you wish some alien would come along and abduct you.